The Boy That Got Away
by thoughtsofanonymous
Summary: The Black Fairy is thwarted in her attempt to steal the newborn son of spinster by a surprise appearance from an old acquaintance.


The wooden hut creaked as a strong gust of wind rushed through the trees outside. The newborn baby stirred in his crib. The noise had wakened him, though he did little more than offer a weak gurgle. Across the room, his two parents remained fast asleep. Exhausted they most definitely were – this kind of peace was a rare gift in the past weeks since welcoming their first son to the world. Turned to his side, the baby watched and listened as the scuffling outside became more apparent.

* * *

The wind began to pick up. The grass danced and rippled in waves. A bright shroud of purple descended down from the night sky. The shape grew and morphed as its reached ground. Out of the glittering cloud first came two shiny-heeled legs. The rest of the Black Fairy's form materialized to land with a cat-like grace. She crouched down and rested her slim fingers into the grass. Careful to not make a sound, she was slow to straighten up and take in the flimsy wooden structure ahead. Her lips curled back to reveal her budding gleefulness. Her wings tucked back beneath her tight fitting leather blouse.

She reached the front door and gently pushed through. Her first glimpse went to the two parents, who were still unperturbed in their slumber. Thrilled even more so now, she turned back to survey the rest of the room. One gnarled wooden walking stick rested against the wall near the parents' bed post. Tattered woolen cloaks hung on hooks that stuck out from the walls. Iron pans were left out unwashed from their previous use. Ash and soot were smeared over the floors circumferencing the mantle. Then there, on the far side of the rickety living space, was the crib. The Black Fairy bit her lip and approached.

It took only a few seconds for her to catch on that something wasn't right. There were no sounds – no breathing, no moving, no whining. Her smile faded as her pace quickened across the small space. She curled her fingers over the rail and felt a drop in her gut. There was nothing – nothing but the subtle, warm indent of the boy that had just been there.

She whipped around and glared at the parents. The infant was not tucked under their arms, nor was there any other crib that could be found elsewhere in the room. She knew there was nothing more to see in this cramped space and that she would soon have to return to her realm. Though she still felt uneasy. The baby should have been here; it _was_ here, and then it wasn't.

She marched out of the hut back into the grassy clearing. Her nostrils flared and her arms swung at her sides. She marched out into the middle of the clearing, then turned back. She studied the pitiful hut once more, marched back towards it, and then paused.

And then, she heard another sound.

A faint _whistling_ beckoned her to turn back and peer up at the surrounding trees.

Two long legs swung casually down from a branch of a great oak. Brown boots laced up over the grey trousers worn by the golden-haired boy who was already grinning down at the Black Fairy. An unnerving darkness shrouded his otherwise gleeful facade. The Black Fairy noticed the white blanketed bundle nestled in the boy's arms.

"Lost something?" He asked down to her.

She exhaled softly. The tension in her shoulders eased. Slowly, the smile began to creep back up. Her crimson lips parted to reveal a gleaming row of teeth. "My, my, what a surprise this is. To what do I owe the occasion?"

"Not an occasion," he shrugged. "I have been scouting the area for lost ones and I heard the news that a newborn son had recently been born to a nearby spinster family. Then I wondered, what were the odds? I couldn't help myself," he peered down at the infant, "and eventually neither could you. Ever so predictable, as always."

"Predictable, you say?" She perked her brows. "It has only been one minute and already you're back to pointing out my faults. How about a change?" She smiled. "At the very least you can admit that you've missed me."

"I've taught my boys to never tell a lie. What kind of an example would I be if I were to start now?"

"A leader to a band of rabble," she beamed, "and in Neverland no less, how quaint."

"You're one to talk," he retorted evenly. "Tell me, do you let the boys that you steal grow to certain age before you start torturing them? At what birthday to gift them with a pickaxe and send them off into those mines?"

"Oh, let's not fight," she pouted. "Not after how long it's been. Why don't we call it a draw and you hand over what it is that I came for?"

"You mean the child?" Pan grinned, raising the sleeping baby ever so slightly in his arms. "Are you so determined to be his new _mummy_?"

She hummed with a dually incandescent and threatening smile. "You should have stayed on that island tonight, dearie. What I do with my children is of no concern to you."

" _Your_ children?" He laughed, boyishly.

The Black Fairy was moved by the sight of this youthful boy who, despite his adolescent physique and bearing, emanated a curious maturity and charm that felt painfully familiar to her. He handled the small bundle in his arms with such ease, a ping of envy shot through her veins.

He glared back at her. "I'm finding it hard to believe how anticlimactic this all is. You haven't changed in the slightest, not for better or worse. I have kept all of my memories of you, and not one of them has you as a disappointment. Not then, anyways."

She crossed her arms. "Really Malcolm, if we're to resort to name-calling the least you could do is come down and look me in the eye. Or are you still too much of a coward to properly confront me?"

"Coward?" He chuckled down at the baby, but then his expression sobered. He paused. "I take it you haven't heard enough about me then."

"Have I not heard of the great Peter Pan, you mean?" She questioned, mocking. Her smile widened. "You always have gone to such great heights to amuse me. Were you hoping I'd be impressed? Did you think your grasp at power in some forsaken realm would frighten me? Intimidate me? Was that it?" She chuckled. "Do you believe that you're strong enough to harm me? Sweet dear, I thought you knew better than to meddle in my affairs. Love really is a nasty business."

His head tilted. "You really ought to stop trying to flatter yourself." He shifted the baby in one arm to reach in to pull out the glowing vial hanging from a lace that hung over his chest. "Though I must say there is a wonderful perk about my _forsaken realm_ that I've been looking forward to sharing with you."

He uncorked the vial, and the Black Fairy hastily stepped back. He smirked, "You know what this is, then?" He examined the glass tube. "Magic dust really is quite amazing. Where you're from, I imagine you're not as familiar with this kind. It's called pixie dust," he held it out. A glint of mischief alighted in his eye. "With your fondness for black dust, I've often wondered how you'd react to it." With a flick of his finger, a small coating of green sparkles along the rim flew out into the air and drifted down towards the Fairy.

She paced backwards. Her head snapped back up. Her cheeks were burning.

The boy laughed. "Oh, you don't like that, do you?" He spoke with a condescending delight. "I didn't think you would. The other fairies can't get enough of it."

"Always playing your games, and never facing the bitter reality. You're just as I left you," she declared.

"Not quite, I have far less wrinkles."

She smiled. "That you do. Though as it pains me to say this, I'm not here to butter a former lover with compliments."

"No, you're just here for the child." He looked pensively at the baby. "You asked me why I came here tonight." With one hand still deftly cradling the child, and the other pinching the sparkling vial, he lifted the rim over the infant's head. Pan looked down at the Black Fairy and gave her a crooked smile. "You want the truth? I'm just here to ruin your fun." He tilted the rim just enough to allow a few sparkles to drift down over two little nostrils. The baby breathed in the magic, and light green aura spread over him.

The Black Fairy screamed out. Her wings untucked and stretched out over her back and she flew up at the boy lounging in the trees. Pan vanished, then reappeared on the far side of the clearing with the baby held at his chest, laughing.

Frightened by the commotion, the infant let out his first wail. Peter tucked vial back under his shirt and rested his free hand over the child's backside. "With all the other children you've stolen, I'm sure you won't miss this one. He should have that dust in him long enough to outgrow that perfect age which you seek."

Her irises had widened and her skin had paled. Loose end of her hair fell out of place, and even from where Pan stood on the other side of the clearing, he could see where her fingers dug into the bark. And it was not due to her rage, but rather, the _pull_. The Black Fairy kept her legs lodged against the branches to hold her steady, but her wings continued to flitter as if they were try to pull her free.

"One child is of no matter to me," she stated lightly. Despite her apparent discomfort against the force pulling her back, she managed a smile. "There will be others to make up for him and those children can thank you for their fate as of tonight. You've done more harm than good tonight, dear love."

"And here I thought we were beyond flattery," Pan smirked.

A shroud of purple smog surrounded the Black Fairy and lifted her up from the trees. She reduced her size back down to not but a barely tangible violet light that flew up with great pace. Pan watched as the last few glitters rose up to the stars before he set his attention back down on the child still nestled in his arms.

Peter reentered the small hut and returned the newborn back into the wooden crib. Just as the baby was laid back down, he glanced up at the Lost Boy. Peter paused, as he suddenly caught off guard by the familiarity of the infant's awestruck expression. The resemblance in the newborn's curious eyes unhinged something deep within Peter and he took a step back.

He glared at the crib another moment more before he turned his attention to the parents. They had yet to stir even after all the commotion outside.

Peter approached their bedside. The mother, a slender woman with unruly dark hair, slept on the far side of the mattress nearer to the wall while the father dazed lazily on the nearer side. Peter crouched down to be at even level with the man. He raised two fingers gently to lift the hair that had fallen over the sleeping face to reveal what Peter had known from the start.

 _Rumplestiltskin_.

Peter studied his grown son's face for another moment. Despite the age that had come about all the mortal years Rumple had endured, Peter still recognized a sense of serenity that came over the man's face, just as it did when that man was not but a small child. Peter exhaled, his shoulders eased. Then just as gently as before, he lowered his son's hair back over, left the hut, and took his own route up into the midnight sky.


End file.
